


One Step at a Time

by IdrisTardis7878



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, but the rest doesn't resemble killian's canon resurrection at all, except for the bit about walking into a light where they didn't know the outcome, my original idea of how things would play out after 5B, post-dark swan, spec fic that has now been totally jossed, that was kinda spot on, with a somewhat fluffy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 10:47:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16891125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdrisTardis7878/pseuds/IdrisTardis7878
Summary: After facing Darkness, death, and the threat of eternal separation, Emma and Killian remember...and heal.Set in a speculative post-5B scenario.





	One Step at a Time

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr on October 23, 2015 as a birthday gift for tumblr user msgenevieve447 (who is here on ao3 as msgenevieve). Original author's note read:
> 
> A/N: This is a (much belated) birthday gift for the lovely and talented msgenevieve447 – I had wanted to do something to honor her special day, but it took me a little bit longer to finish than I’d thought (work got in the way, ugh). It also got a little angstier than originally planned, but there’s definitely plenty of fluff in there too. Set in a vague post-5B speculative future where the Darkness has been defeated.
> 
> Hope you had a great birthday, dear, and that you enjoy!!

The kitchen of the small seaside cottage was bathed in the warm glow of the pendant lamps hanging above its central island. Outside, occasional snow flurries swirled through the deepening twilight that was visible through the lattice-paned windows over the sink. Emma moved quietly about the cozy space, her socked feet barely making a sound as she put a saucepan of milk on the stove to heat and retrieved a pair of thick ceramic mugs from one of the cupboards.

She glanced towards the living room, the cottage’s open floorplan allowing her a clear view of the large stone fireplace beyond the sofa and the flickering orange flames dancing on the hearth. Killian’s ruffled mess of dark hair was just visible over the top of the sofa’s squishy cushions, and she caught the barest glimpse of his profile when she crossed the kitchen to grab the cocoa powder, sugar, and cinnamon from their customary – rather, their  _assigned_  – spots.

(So tidy, her pirate…he’d fussed over most things in the kitchen shortly after they’d moved in.  _“Everything has a proper place, Swan. Don’t you see?”_  He’d been so adorably earnest about it that she’d conceded and actually let him arrange most of the room…and in return, he’d made it worth her while. Even now, she could never  _quite_  look at the countertop closest to the sink without feeling a slight flush creep along her skin.)

At the moment, his head was tilted down, and though she hadn’t gotten a good look, she thought his brows seemed to be furrowed. The faint whispering crinkle of pages turning reached her ears as she stepped back towards the stove to stir the simmering milk, and she wondered what he was reading that was causing him to frown like that. She finished assembling their cocoa quickly, adding a generous dollop of whipped cream to hers and a slightly smaller amount to Killian’s before sprinkling them both with the cinnamon, scooping up the mugs, and moving into the living room.

She sighed happily, glancing around at the small cottage, its homey environs filling her with a sense of peace and relaxation that the large house she’d recently inhabited had never brought her. After the Darkness had been vanquished, and she’d returned fully to herself, she could no longer bear to keep the stately home – though beautiful, it felt cold and stark, nothing like what she truly wanted. She’d stayed with Killian on the Jolly for a few weeks while she looked for another house – she still  _did_ need her own place – needing their closeness while she’d healed. When she’d found the small yellow cottage near the beach, with its white trim and black shutters, she’d known in an instant that this was the right place – not just for her, and for Henry when he stayed with her, but for Killian too.

After spending so much time together in the wake of her bout with the Darkness, she didn’t really want to be apart from him again, even as she longed for a place to call her own. Luckily, he was more than on the same page where that was concerned, and had eagerly agreed to her suggestion that they move into the cottage together. It had instantly felt like home, from the first night they’d spent under its roof.  _Then again,_ she mused,  _that might have more to do with sharing the space with him than the cottage itself_.

Trying not to spill the cocoa, she settled on the sofa next to him and nudged him gently with her elbow. He looked up at her, startled for a moment – he’d apparently been even more deeply engrossed in his reading than she’d realized – before a warm smile stretched across his face. He quickly marked his place in the book and set it aside, reaching for the mug that she held out to him. “Thanks, love.”

“No problem,” she murmured, nodding in the direction of the volume he’d just put down, the gold embossed letters on its dark blue cover gleaming in the dancing firelight. “What was in there that made you so frowny?”

“Frowny?” he repeated, amusement quirking his lips into a slight grin as he tilted his head in her direction. “Was I? I didn’t realize.”

“Yeah,” she said, reaching her free hand out to smooth her thumb along the space between his dark brows. She pressed gently along the still furrowed skin she found there. “You still are. Sort of. Was there something upsetting in that book?”

He sighed, leaning away from her touch to put his mug down on the coffee table before settling back into the sofa and reaching for her hand. Lacing their fingers together, he rubbed his thumb gently along her wrist as he started to speak. “In a way, love,” he looked up at her then, and as their eyes caught, she could read the struggle in his. He was clearly wrestling with something, she only wished he would tell her what.

Putting her own cocoa down on the table next to his, she slid closer to him, ducking under his arm without releasing his hand. The move brought her right against him, effectively nestling her into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and tucked her face into his neck, pressing a quick, soft kiss under his jaw. “Hey, talk to me,” she said softly.

He seemed to relax slightly into her, and she could feel his scruff brushing her temple as he spoke. “It’s a book of Greek myths…it came from the library. We’d – Henry and I – we’d been using it before…well, before. For research. I thought it had gone back with the rest, but he found it yesterday when he was cleaning his room. I told him I’d take it back to Belle tomorrow.”

 _Ah, that explained a lot_. Now it was her turn to sigh. There was no need to ask him which story he’d been re-reading. It was undoubtedly the same one that had frequently been on her own mind in the weeks since everything had returned to some semblance of normalcy. She tilted her head back so that she could look up at him. “But you thought you’d just torture yourself a little bit first?”

“That was an unintended side effect, yes.” He huffed out a wry chuckle before pressing his head back against the sofa cushions, turning his gaze to the ceiling. After a moment, he spoke again, his eyes still upturned, his words almost too low to be heard. “I thought I would do well to get a bit of perspective by remembering what we overcame, but it simply served to remind me how close we came to failing.”

As she sat there, tucked into his side, his words caused fragments of memory from their latest adventure to float across her mind’s eye.

_An inky blackness surrounding her that was even darker than the magic that had taken her when she’d raised the dagger._

_A murky existence taking shape in an ethereal half-light – a sludgy river running through what seemed to be a vast and never-ending cavern, an infinite number of shadowed shapes flitting closer and then farther away, always at the edges of her vision. Were they human? What if they weren’t?_

_Eyes that glinted at her from the distance, always watching, assessing – she thought she could see the figures they belonged to more clearly than the rest. A regal looking man and woman perhaps?_

_Or maybe she was finally just losing her mind._

_No sense of time passing – it felt like forever, and like no time at all – until the moment when a light so bright that it nearly blinded her pierced the darkness, and then –_

_Killian._

_Somehow, impossibly – wonderfully – Killian. Worry mingling with relief in his eyes as he spotted her. His arms had been round her in an instant but –_

_The figures with the glinting eyes had moved closer – definitely a man and woman. Killian had argued and pled with them, while she linked their fingers, locking their hands tightly together. She finally found her own voice – hoarse from lack of use – and joined him._

_The other couple – Hades and Persephone because apparently she’d sacrificed herself **again** to rid herself, and the world, of the Darkness and had been sent to the Underworld and what even  **was**  her life?! – at long last relented._

_One chance – they had just one chance._

_Killian had to go first – Charon would show them the way – and she had to follow. Neither could look back, or it would all be for nothing. She’d be stuck there permanently, and they’d be separated – forever._

_The warning words she’d spoken to him what seemed like ages ago returned to her and as she pressed her forehead to his in the dim light of Charon’s lantern she whispered them again. This time they were a promise. “Don’t think I’m taking my eyes off you for a second.”_

_His voice was pained and heavy as he whispered back. “I would despair if you did.”_

_She had barely a moment to spare a thought for how the words were the same but the meanings so drastically different before he pulled her in for a bruising, desperate kiss – and then there was no time to think at all. They were off, wending their long way back to the land of the living._

The room had grown quiet as they both drifted, lost in their memories. The fire still crackled, but it had burned down a bit and that – combined with the fact that night had well and truly fallen – made the room a good deal darker, which was not ideal given the path her thoughts had taken. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Emma sent a quick burst of magic at the fireplace, building the fire back up and brightening the room in the blink of an eye.

She turned back to Killian, reaching up and gently sliding her palm along his cheek, slowly turning his face so she could look him in the eye. “Hey.” She could tell from his expression that his thoughts had been running fairly parallel to hers, and she kept caressing the apple of his cheek with her thumb until she felt him relax. “Hey, the important thing is that we  _did_  overcome it, Killian.”

“Aye,” he smiled down at her, some of his good spirits seeming to return. “As I’ve always said, we make quite the team, Swan.”

“Hell yeah we do.” She returned his smile before leaning forward to pick up the forgotten book. The gilt letters spelling out  _Orpheus & Eurydice, and Other Greek Myths_ flashed in the firelight for the briefest of moments as she considered the volume in her hand. “But you know what?”

Killian made an inquisitive noise and gestured for her to continue.

“This,” she held up the book, “is not  _our_  story, not exactly. Sure, there are some similarities, but it’s not  _us_  – we’ve already proved that by succeeding where they failed.” She shook her head decisively before putting the book back on the coffee table. “Nope. We’re still in the middle of writing our story,” she stretched up to give him a slow, soft kiss. “Together.”

He pulled back, but only slightly. The warmth of his exhalations fanned across her chin and his nose nuzzled along hers. “Aye,” he breathed before leaning in and recapturing her lips, “together.” She leaned further into him, wrapping her arms around his neck as his crept around her waist and pulled her tightly to him. The last coherent thought she managed before letting herself be pulled under by their deepening kisses was that they were still healing, and the road ahead of them was longer and more winding than she’d thought, but now more than ever, she was sure that they’d make it.


End file.
